


No Road Untraveled

by Udunie



Series: Tumblr prompts [32]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 04:31:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11570376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Udunie/pseuds/Udunie
Summary: Peter bit the lobe of his ear, licking into the shell to make Stiles shiver.“Not good enough… say ‘please, daddy.’”It wasn’t even something he really thought about before he said it if he wanted to be honest; just a random little thing he thought Stiles would enjoy - his boy was nothing if not a kinky little explorer.The reaction he got was a bit… different than he expected.





	No Road Untraveled

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[授权翻译]百无禁忌/No Road Untraveled](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12099102) by [azarsin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azarsin/pseuds/azarsin)



> The prompt was:  
> This could either be a part of clawing under, or just a prompt for something else, but I'd love to see something with Peter introducing daddy kink to a reluctant Stiles, and punishing him for his resistance by like, fucking him in his dad's bed while wearing the sheriff's uniform or making the Sheriff fuck Stiles while Peter fucks his face. Cheers, =3
> 
> I admit, I twisted this a bit to make it consensual and actually pretty sweet??? Am I sorry? Not very much :D

Peter pushed Stiles down on the bed, making him bounce a bit. The boy grinned, already shimmying out of his underwear with a shit-eating grin. That just wouldn’t do.

“Aw, what’s the hurry, darling?” He loved how impatient Stiles was. And even more than that, he loved to tease him about it.

Peter climbed over him, taking hold of his wrists and pinning them above Stiles’ head.

“Oooh! You gonna stop me?” the boy asked, jabbing his hips up, searching for friction Peter wasn’t willing to give just yet.

Peter growled, leaning down to nuzzle the boy’s neck. Stiles smelled almost too good; young and horny and so full of… life. He would have been happy basking in his scent for hours.

“Hm… maybe,” he said, finally giving in and rolling his hips down, pressing his own hard-on to Stiles’ cock. The boy whined, head thrown back. Absolutely beautiful. Of course, he stopped before either of them could get too into it.

“Oh, come on,” Stiles whined, wiggling like a kitten, flexing his hands. Not like he was any match for Peter’s strength.

“Ah-ah-ah! I don’t think so, my darling. You will have to ask for it,” he said, smiling as sweetly as he could. Stiles rolled his eyes, the cheeky little brat.

“Please?” he asked, with an equally horrid impression of innocence.

Peter bit the lobe of his ear, licking into the shell to make Stiles shiver.

“Not good enough… say  _ ‘please, daddy.’” _

It wasn’t even something he really thought about before he said it if he wanted to be honest; just a random little thing he thought Stiles would enjoy - his boy was nothing if not a kinky little explorer.

The reaction he got was a bit… different than he expected. 

Stiles made a little sound like he was hurt and for a split second his scent spiked hot and overwhelming with  _ want _ , only to go sour a heartbeat later.

“What? What the hell, Peter, come on!” the boy said, sounding as close to scandalized as he possibly could. His whole body was tense enough that Peter let him go, feeling like he overstepped some invisible boundary.

It wasn’t something he’d felt before, not with Stiles, and it rubbed him the wrong way.

“You alright, darling?” he asked, pushing himself up to have a better look at the boy. Stiles’ face was flushed, his eyes not quite meeting Peter’s.

“Yeah, sure. That’s just… That’s really stupid, okay? It’s turning me off so much.”

Peter was sharp enough to catch the lie in his heartbeat.

He was also sharp enough not to call attention to it.

Not yet.

 

***

 

Once, at the beginning of their relationship - in the middle of an argument, of all things - Stiles told him that Peter was a ‘wolf by birth and bulldog by nature’. He guessed it was true. Oh, he wasn’t obvious about it, but whenever he sank his teeth into something, he wouldn’t let it go, no matter how long it took to get it.

And the next morning, as he watched Stiles sleep, the sharp contrast of the love bites on his neck to his silky skin, he remembered the way the boy’s smell thickened and grew almost feverish with pleasure at the mere suggestion of calling Peter ‘daddy.’

Of course, the proper thing to do would have been to leave it alone. Stiles said it turned him off, and for a good man, that should have been enough.

But, Peter wasn’t a good man. Apparently, he was a bulldog.

 

***

 

This, this was Peter’s forte; he was faced with an obscure problem that - more than likely - needed a crafty, equally obscure solution.

He approached it the way he approached all of his schemes: first, you had to learn the lay of the land.

Peter spent the next few days watching Stiles closely. Not like he didn’t usually pay attention to him, but now he had a different perspective. 

His first thought was that maybe Stiles had a thing for his dad. Sure, something like that would have been considered sick by most, but well. There was no denying that the Sheriff was a good looking man, and Peter valued pragmatism higher than morals. Had that been the case, he would have found a way to work around it, even though he didn’t particularly like the thought of sharing.

But, as he found out after about a week of careful surveyance, that didn’t seem to be the case.

So maybe the problem was a bit more complex... 

Stiles - despite how he could talk for hours on end if someone was foolish enough to let him - actually didn’t usually  _ tell  _ much about himself. The boy had his fair share of traumas, and he kept most of them close to his chest.

Honestly, it made them a good pair, because Peter could understand that; the need for privacy in his own head at least. But also, as a werewolf, his heightened senses allowed him to pick up on the subtle signs when Stiles needed to be left alone or distracted from his thoughts without his lover having to spell it out.

And Stiles was… terrifyingly good at reading Peter. He thought it might have been because for most of his life he perfected his skills of deceiving his own kind; he could smooth out his own heartbeat, he could will his body into stillness or mask his scent...

Stiles didn’t care about any of that, couldn’t even sense most of his tricks; he would just look at Peter and  _ know  _ things.

It was infuriating, is what it was. And it just made Peter want to solve this mystery more.

 

***

 

The breakthrough came when he least expected it; before dinner on a Thursday. Stiles was making this simple - but delicious - casserole dish that he inherited from his mother. And as always when Stiles cooked, he babbled. He talked on and on about how long it took him to make it just right after she died and a million other things...

Peter listened to him with half an ear while he was reading an interesting article on his phone by the kitchen table.

It was the kind of domestic scene he would have bristled at just a year ago, but now it was something he’d come to appreciate. Truth be told, he thought he was the better cook out of the two of them, but sometimes Stiles just took over the kitchen in a flurry of motion.

Then suddenly, he picked up the wistful note in the boy’s voice. It wasn’t colored with grief so it couldn’t be about his mother, no, it was something else.

Peter watched him, article forgotten.

“... because you know, I was like, eleven. And honestly, I was a horrible cook. But dad wasn’t really taking care of himself, so I wanted to do something nice for him…”

Ah.

 

***

 

He came to the conclusion that Stiles didn’t have the hots for his dad, but he did have a jumbled up mess of feelings about the whole ‘father’ thing. Oh, he loved the Sheriff, there was no question about it. 

But, during Stiles’ formative years he did have to make do with a distorted, occasionally distant father figure. Peter was guessing that it was the root of Stiles’ preference for older men - not like he had any right to complain about that.

So, Stiles had daddy issues. That didn’t bother Peter at all. According to the research he did, it was common for people with such issues to develop sexual fantasies and preferences geared towards those things.

The question was, what would Peter do about that?

 

***

 

He started slow, not wanting to alert Stiles to the fact that he was onto him. The boy obviously had conflicting feelings about the whole daddy thing, but back when they got together, Peter made it his mission to make Stiles blossom in the bedroom. He wasn’t going to leave a perfectly good kink unexplored over a bit of doubt.

So, he couldn’t get Stiles to call him daddy. But he could - slowly and carefully - introduce him to being called a  _ boy _ .

He started the next time they had sex; with Stiles on his hands and knees and Peter fucking him from behind, gripping his hips and pressing bruises into the white of his skin. 

“Shit… just…” his lover babbled, gripping at the sheets.

Peter grinned, he loved to take Stiles to the brink of coming just with hammering away at his prostate, the boy was so amazingly responsible that it blew Peter’s mind every single time.

All Stiles needed was a little nudge.

Peter leaned over him, breathing hotly on the nape of his neck, closing his eyes and just basking in that hot, sweet scent.

“Yeah, just a bit more,” he said, circling his hips and forcing a broken off moan out of his lover. He waited until the very last moment, until he could almost taste the bitter smell of Stiles’ release.

“You’re so good to me,” Peter told him. It wasn’t even a lie, he didn’t think he was ever more honest in his life. “I’m so proud of you,  _ my darling boy _ .”

Stiles came just like that, like the words alone were enough to push him over. He came with a gasp, trembling under Peter’s hands.

Good.

 

***

 

He continued in that vein; slipping in words of endearment, calling Stiles his boy, his sweet, good boy in the midst of sex. Peter wasn’t foolish enough to let himself be caught, usually leaving it until the last moment, when Stiles was too close to orgasm to comprehend what was said exactly.

But every time Peter did it, he could smell it again, that amazing spike in the boy’s scent of pure, uncontrollable want. 

And he wanted more of it.

 

***

 

A few weeks later - despite his best efforts - Stiles was onto him. He was proud, Peter wouldn’t have loved the boy quite as much if he couldn’t keep up with his schemes.

But to his surprise, Stiles didn’t stop him, didn’t even call him out on it - which was quite unusual.

Instead, they kept up the charade that nothing was going on, dancing around each other. Peter could see it though, when they were fucking now. The way Stiles grew tense and coiled tight before he came, his heartbeat racing as he waited for Peter to  _ say  _ it. To tell him how good he was, to tell him how proud Stiles made him. 

And when he did it, Stiles’ eyes widened, like it caught him off-guard every time and then he came, all that tension released, all that want sated for the moment.

It was almost enough.

But Peter… Peter wanted everything.

 

***

 

Friday night was dinner with the Sheriff. Most often than not, Peter was cooking, bringing over healthy, elegant dishes to heat in the homely kitchen of the Stilinski house.

The first time they did it had been… tense. He could - intellectually - understand that John had hang-ups about his son dating someone like him, but… John wasn’t a wolf. He couldn’t smell the way Peter and Stiles’ scents mingled in their bed, creating something that was just. Perfect.

Still, he could understand, and he could play along and charm his way into the household. It took a pretty long time for the tension to bleed out of the family dinners though. 

But now, a year later, there was barely any trace of it. Peter made the compromise of tuning down public displays of affection, and the Sheriff made the compromise of not cleaning his guns by the table every week when they arrived.

It worked for them.

Peter didn’t plan on it, but when the Sheriff got a call during desert about an urgent - but not supernatural - case from the station, he saw his big chance finally arriving.

“You boys lock up before you go,” John said, still talking to his phone awkwardly pinched between his cheek and his shoulder as he got his jacket on.

“Right-o,” Stiles said, already putting away the leftovers, moving around with the confidence of someone in their childhood home.

He didn’t even notice how quiet Peter went as the wheels started to spin in his head.

 

***

 

When all the food was put away and Stiles was just finishing with the dishes, Peter made his move.

“You know what we haven’t done yet?” he asked, putting his arms around Stiles, pressing his body against him. The simple contact was enough to make the boy’s smell grew a bit spicier, just the way Peter loved it.

“Hm?”

“Christen your room,” Peter told him with a grin, nuzzling into his neck.

Stiles made a pleased little sound, letting the last plate fall back into the water.

“Ooh, really? Is that something you would be interested in?” he asked, turning in Peter’s arms. 

Peter kissed him, tasting the smile on his lips. Kissing Stiles was always an experience; never the same, always a different favor, a different sort of heat. He couldn’t get bored of it.

But the plan had to be moved along, so he grabbed the boy under the ass and hoisted him up until Stiles wrapped his legs around him with a squeak. 

“Oh, yes, I would.”

 

***

 

Peter was grateful for being a werewolf on the way up the stairs. Carrying a gangly, full-grown young man would have been a challenge to anyone, especially when you had to do it while kissing and in a dark house.

Peter made sure that Stiles was distracted. It wouldn’t have been wise to let him realize where they were headed too soon.

When they finally arrived and he threw Stiles on the bed, it took the boy a second to realize where he was.

“What… no, no, wrong room,” he said, trying to scurry off, but Peter was faster, planting a hand in the middle of his chest to keep him put.

“You are exactly where I want you to be,” Peter told him. Stiles’ heart was hammering under his palm, like a bunny’s.

“No. No, Peter come on, we’ve talked about this…” Stiles said, eyes wide, but still smelling faintly of arousal. Good.

Peter clucked his tongue, straddling Stiles’ thighs and making himself comfortable.

“Oh really? I don’t remember any talking. I remember you saying it turned you off. I remember you  _ lying _ ,” he pointed out.

Stiles swallowed, his breathing coming quick and shallow.

It almost made Peter back off. Almost.

“Darling, relax. You know I won’t force you into anything… But we have a rule.”

The boy closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“No lying in the bedroom,” he said, his voice small, defeated. Not something Peter liked to hear.

“Exactly,” Peter told him, leaning down to press a little kiss to the corner of his mouth. “By now, you should know you can’t fool me... We already did the thing where you wore panties. We did the thing where  _ I _ wore panties. We did the thing where I let you pour hot wax on me…” that had been difficult for Peter. Not like he ever would have admitted how on edge he was by all those open flames in the bedroom. But Stiles just knew he  _ wanted  _ it, and so Stiles helped him experience it. Safely.

“Unfair,” Stiles whispered, but he seemed calmer, clutching at Peter’s shoulders and pulling him close, like he needed his body to shield himself from the room they were in.

“No it’s not.” 

This was probably the time where he should have spouted out a whole spiel about life being too short not to be experienced fully - he knew, he already died a few times - but he didn’t think he needed to. Stiles was much smarter than that. All he needed to know that Peter was here, and would help him do it. Safely.

“It’s…”

Peter waited patiently. There was no need to hurry.

“It feels wrong,” Stiles said finally, eyes falling closed. It wasn’t a lie exactly, but it wasn’t the truth either.

Peter hummed under his breath.

“Is that it? Or does it feel… too good?”

Stiles turned his face into the pillow. He kissed his neck.

“You know, it doesn’t have to  _ mean  _ anything. This is not about him, it’s about us. It’s about something  _ you  _ want. Something I want to give you, if you let me…”

If Stiles still said no, there wasn’t much he could do. Not now anyway. He wouldn’t give up, but it wasn’t impossible that he misjudged his plan, and the boy needed more time.

“What do you say, my darling boy?” he asked, slipping in the word carefully, caressing Stiles’ cheek.

There was a little shudder, a little sigh, unnoticable for anyone not a werewolf, and then Stiles’ scent was filling out, blooming across his tongue, rich and warm.

Peter smiled. He didn’t need it spelled out.

“Are you done being stubborn, my boy? Are you ready to take your punishment?”

Stiles moaned, his eyes opening finally, almost feverish with want.

“Y-yeah. I’m… I’m sorry.”

Peter nibbled his neck, a sharp little bite to remind him of his place.

“Not good enough, I’m sorry…?”

“I. I’m sorry, daddy,” Stiles breathed. Peter could see his cock twitch under its confines.

“That’s right. You’re mine. You’re my boy, and I’m going to make sure you learn your lesson,” he promised, climbing off and sitting down beside Stiles.

“Come on, get undressed, show your daddy how big you’ve grown,” he said, slipping a trace of hardness into his voice. 

Stiles bit his lower lip, just looking at him for a second and then jerked into motion, hopping off the bed and discarding his clothes to the floor.

Peter tutted.

“You are such a messy boy,” he said, “leaving everything where they drop. It looks like I’ve been too lenient with you…”

Peter shifted to the edge of the bed, parting his knees in obvious invitation.

“Come on then, on your knees. Daddy will show how to apologize properly,” he ordered. 

Peter watched Stiles move, the lean lines of his body, the vulnerable slope of his shoulders, the twitch of his fingers. His boy was nervous, but still, he was here, and he was willing to trust Peter with this, and he wasn’t about to abuse that.

Stiles dropped to his knees with the ease he always did. The boy just loved to give head, and Peter was more than happy to let him. But this time, there was a bit of hesitancy in the way he held himself, a shyness in his eyes. 

“That’s right, my darling boy. Do you want to apologize? Do you want to prove daddy how sorry you are for being difficult?”

Stiles shivered, his pupils blown. Such a beautiful sight.

“Y-yeah. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, daddy,” he said, the words just rolling off his pretty, pink tongue like he’d been aching to say them and wasn’t even aware of it.

Peter cupped his face, leaning in to steal a kiss.

“Very good, baby boy, you are doing so well.”

He could actually see the way color rose in Stiles’ cheeks at the praise. Oh, he would have to give more of that. Much, much more.

“Now, daddy needs you to take care of him, can you do that, baby?”

Stiles nodded, licking his lips and reaching for Peter’s pants without any more direction. All Peter had to do was sit back and enjoy. He did just that, but he still couldn’t keep his hands to himself, raking his fingers through the boy’s hair.

“So good for me. That’s it, darling boy, you know how daddy loves it.”

And oh, Stiles did. Sometimes Peter worried his lover knew him too well, but that was the farthest thing from his mind now, when he could feel that soft, wet mouth closing around his cock.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s right, baby boy. Keep your eyes on daddy, I want to see how much you like it.”

Watching Stiles give head was one of the most erotic experiences in Peter’s life, and now, with that trace of shyness lurking in the background he was appreciating it on a whole new level.

He kept his hand on the boy’s head, leading him through it. Stiles didn’t really need his guidance, but they both needed to know who was in charge here.

Stiles was making little sounds, sucking around his cock, gagging a bit from time to time. It didn’t worry Peter, by now he knew that while Stiles gave head without grace, he did it with a lot of passion and enthusiasm. 

It didn’t take long for the boy to lose himself in it, taking Peter’s cock into his throat, swallowing around him the way that drove him mad.

It was time to stop.

All he needed to do was tighten his fingers in Stiles’ hair a fraction to get his attention. Just in time, because he wasn’t sure he would have been able to take more of that mouth on him.

“Alright, baby boy, that’s enough.”

He could practically see the way Stiles’ eyes clouded with worry.

“You did so well, you are amazing, my darling boy, but daddy wants to fuck that sweet little ass of yours,” he added with a smile. Stiles flushed, slowly pulling back and letting Peter’s cock fall from his lips.

“O-okay,” he said, voice a lovely and raspy.

“That’s right. You want that, don’t you? You want your daddy’s cock in you, hm, baby?”

Stiles nodded, his lips red and slick as Peter pulled him up.

“Come, sit on daddy’s lap.”

He pulled the boy close as he maneuvered the small tube of lube he’d taken to carrying around from his pocket. Peter believed in always being prepared. 

Stiles arched against him at the first touch of a wet finger at his hole, his naked body feeling hot even through Peter’s clothes.

“It’s okay, baby boy, daddy is going to take good care of you, I promise. All you have to do is be a good boy and stay still for me. Can you do that for me?”

Stiles but his arms around his shoulder, burying his face in Peter’s neck. He could feel the boy nod. But that wasn’t quite enough.

Peter digged his finger in, not rough, exactly, but demanding.

“I didn’t hear that, boy.”

Stiles whined.

“Yes. Yes, daddy.”

Oh, he wasn’t sure he could have enough of that sweet voice sounding so desperate.

“That’s better.”

He didn’t tease, making quick work of preparing Stiles. He knew the boy’s body better than his own, knowing exactly how much pressure he need to apply, how many fingers he had to use so Stiles could take him safely, and still feel the burn that sent his blood singing.

“Almost there, baby boy. I’m so proud of you, you are doing so well for me.”

Stiles was shaking, all his willpower probably taken up by staying still. Knowing him, it was actually a remarkable feat.

Peter pulled his fingers back as soon as he was done, already missing the welcoming heat of Stiles’ body.

The boy moaned at the loss, curling closer to him.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby. Daddy is here, daddy will make sure you enjoy himself. Do you want that? Do you want daddy’s cock?”

Stiles shifted, his hips making little, aborted motions, his hard cock leaking against Peter’s shirt.

“Yes. Please… please, daddy…”

Peter closed his eyes, letting that wonderful, rich scent wash over his senses. This. This was what he wanted, to smell Stiles like this; lost in pleasure without a trace of doubt or self-hatred.

He hummed under his breath, satisfied. Almost.

“Please what, my lovely, darling boy? Tell me what you need.”

Stiles’ fingers dug into his back.

“P-please, give me your cock, daddy,” he said, voice breaking with need.

And even Peter couldn’t say no to that.

He growled, unable to stop himself, lining his cock up with Stiles’ waiting hole and grabbed the boy’s hips, pulling him down slowly.

Stiles cried out, head thrown back. Peter wanted to suck marks into the pale skin there. But this wasn’t the time.

“Yeah, so beautiful. My beautiful, sweet boy.”

It was almost too much; Stiles felt too good around him, perfect.

Peter started fucking him, going as slow as he could, bouncing the boy on his dick.

He would have been embarrassed by how quickly he got close, if not for the scent of Stiles’ orgasm lurking just a second away too.

“That’s it baby, show me.  _ Come _ .”

Stiles’ whole body stilled, his thighs trembling around Peter as he spilled over, coming with a muffled little moan against his shoulder.

Peter held him through it, keeping his own hips going, slow and gentle, to make the pleasure last, until he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, coming with his teeth gritted and his hands gentle on Stiles.

“Thanks,” Stiles told him. He sounded wrung out. He sounded like his mind just got blown.

Peter kissed his temple and pulled him just a bit closer.

“Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked it!
> 
> You can find me at udunie.tumblr.com


End file.
